Prince
by chicadoodle
Summary: Voldemort is dead. The wizarding world has rejoiced, before returning to some semblance of normalcy. The summer before 7th Year Harry Potter mysteriously dissappears, but there is no sign of forced entry ... Larger summary inside. Chapter 4 up!
1. Chapter 1

Oh god, I'm so sorry! I know that I shouldn't be starting another story, not when I have so many going right now. But ... I just couldn't help myself! I'm part of a community called "Plot Bunnies", where people share Harry Potter fanfiction story ideas, and somebody mentioned this one, and ... I just couldn't help myself! The first race given isthat of Pheonix, which everybody should be familiar with. The other race used is Sphynx, a race I found in a mythical creatures search on the internet. For more information on this creature, go ahead and email : allieycosta gmail . com 

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Story: Royal Blood 

Author: Chicadoodle, Also Known As AllieyCosta, Alyson, or Alliey 

Rated: PG13 

Summary: Voldemort is dead. The wizarding world has rejoiced, before returning to some semblance of normalcy. The summer before 7th Year Harry Potter mysteriously dissappears, but there is no sign of forced entry ... only the unmistakable signature of a group of Unspeakables. That wards couldn't hold them .. and they too have dissappeared, leaving their hidden Ward at the Ministry empty. Danger is afoot, and this time, it could turn out to be even more dangerous than Lord Voldemort ever hoped to be. Non-Human!Harry. Dark-fic. Eventually Harry/Lucius. America. 

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Voldemort was dead. 

Thinking back on it, it was hard for Harry to imagine, now, the world that he had once lived in. A world of fear, where people were wary to trust their neighbor, for fear that they might be sympathizers of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Now, it was like those times had never existed. People weren't afraid to invite you into their house for a spot of tea, and you didn't have to pass through layers of wards to get into those houses. Even after only a year, The Wizarding World had changed so much. 

He'd be starting his 7th Year at Hogwart soon, and the only worry on his mind, was what kind of Defense professor Dumbledore had managed to get this time. The only good one he'd really had, had been Professor Lupin in his third year. Oh, Moody had been amazing, nobody could refute that. But the fact that he had actually been a Death Eater taking Polyjuice Potion should have said something. Something like "Run for your lives!" 

But, that was all in the past now. For now, all that he had to do was survive the summer holdays, until Hogwarts started up again. Shouldn't be too hard, right? 

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He tossed and turned in his bed, pushing hs covers down and then pulling them back up to his neck, the heat of the night warring with his innaet need to be covered, wrapped in soft blankets. 

Although, these blankets weren't exactly what one would call "soft". More like, adequat enough not to leave scrath marks in the morning. 

Moaning softly, Harry finially sat up in bed, admitting silently to himself that the chances of him getting any sleep tonight were 0 to none. This had been hapenning quite often lately, as the nights seemed to only be getting hotter and hotter. The Dursley's didn't seem to mind, although knowing them, they each probably had an air conditioner in their bedrooms, leaving him to suffer in the summer heat alone. 

The nights were the worst, cooped up in this little room with nothing to take his mind off the blistering heat. The days almost seemed cool, but that was most likely because he was so busy, there was nothing to keep his mind off things. 

Glancing at his alarm clock -- one of Dudley's old one's that had been replaced this last christmas -- Harry sighed in defeat as he re alised that it was only 1:30 in the monring. What in the world was he supposed to do until his relatives woke up? 

A cup of coffee was in order. 

Grinning silently to himself, Harry slipped out his room quietly, although by now he knew that he didn't exactly have to worry about waking his relatives up. They slept the sleep of the dead, had as long ashe could remember. Even a pot of freshly brewed coffee, while usually enough to wake up Remus, Ron, and Hermione at Grimmauld Place, ddin't disturb their sleep in the slightest. 

Yawning against the back of his hand, harry blinked sleepily as he stumbled down the stairs, jumping over the last step as he always did, before landing with a soft thud on the bottom level. He took a minute to gather his wits about him, disoritentated from the jump, before heading into the kitchen. 

As he puttere daround the kitchen, careful tonly dirty the dishes that were absolutely necessary, Harry allowed himself a mom ent to wonder what Sirius wold think of the stunning victory of the Light Side against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Barely a year after the older man's death, it was as if the terorr of the last couple of years had never existed, as if there had never been a war against the insane Hitler-Wanna-Be. 

Nobody could forget the wars, though, not really. There were too many dead, too many mass grave sites throughout the Wizarding World, for it to ever really be forgotten. 

Feeling his good mood beginning to quickly disspate, Harry forced his mind onto happier subjects, before he fell into a deep depression, as hd been his wont whenever he thought of his godfather, and the War. 

Hogwarts. He couldn't wait to go back there. now that Malfoy had finially been taken down a few pegs. His father had renounced voldemoert sometime in their 6th year, although how long he had actually been spyin gfor the Order, Harry didn't know. Narcissa Malfoy had immediately demanded divorce papers, of course, and had refused to acknwledge Draco as her son, claiming that he was "just like his no-good chating father". Her words, of course, stated to a reporter in a paid interview. 

Draco, of course, hadn't been spared himulation. He coul dhave easily claimed that he simply been acting the part of a good death-eater for his father, i order to solidify Lucius Malfoy's image as a loyal follower of You-Know-Who. Could have, if he hadn't bee forced to make a formal apology to harry, Ron, and Hermione while his father stood by, watching. 

That was a memory he woud cherish for a long time to come. Draco Malfoy, face beet-red, apologising to a Weasley and a Muggle. ah, how he wished he had had a camerca. 

Luckily, Remus had shared with him a way to put a memory into a photo, so he'd most definately be looking in to that when he returned to the Wizarding World. 

Holding his hand up to stifle yet another yawn, Harry forwned in annoyance at the frequency of the yawns. Obviously, he was starting to reach the stage where Coffee alone wasn't goning to be enough to keep him awake. 

Leaning against the counter as the coffee began to bew -- finially! -- Harry allowed his head to droop down, eyes closing as he tried to fight off another wave of tiredness. While it was reasonably cool down here, and he could have easily fallen asleep, he didn't think that hte Dursley's would have taken very kindly to him falling asleep in the kitche, of all places. Not tomention if they found out that he was drinking their precious imported coffee, they'd likely throw a fit of gigantic proportions. H'ed often wondered if hhis unle would actually resort to physical violence if he was bad enough ... and he wasn't too keen on finding out the answer to that particular question. 

blinking open his eyes, Harry watched as the coffee continoued to collect in the pot, silently wishing that it would just hurry up and GET THERE, rather than taking forever about it. Unfortunately, ho wever,t he annoying pieceof muggle techonology continued to work at it's frustatingly slow pace. 

It was actually kidn of nice down here, so quiet and peaceful in the dark of the night. Smiling slightly -- just a small upward curl on one oside of his mouth -- Harry sighed sfotly, sagging back agaainst the counter once again. 

They seeme to almost glide across the lawn of the mundane Muggle house, making no noise in the quiet of the neighborhood. The wards of the house had easily been passed -- one of the few wards that still existed, since the occupant of the house was one of those few who still needed it. Death Eater attacks had completely stopped after the defeat of Voldemort ... but if there was one person that was still under threat of possible asassination, more so than Dumbledore and Fudge put togeather, it was Harry Potter, the one responsible for the death of Lord Voldemort in the first place. 

But those Wards meant nothing to them, were simply a tingle to their senses as the walked past. 

THe most powerful Wards that Albus Dumbledore could conure meant little to them,s imply a nuisance that they could laugh about later. 

The youngest of them had grey sprinked in his hair, eyes set on the door of Number 4, Privet Drive, as if nothing else in the world existed save for that door, and the person hidden behind it. He was awake, their raven-haired boy, their prince, their saviour. He was moving about, puttering around the mundane, muggle little house in a way that did not befit one so great as him. He deserved better. 

Beside him walked a woman, a sharp contrast to her companion. Her red hair fell loosely down to the middle of her back, laughing chocolate-brown eyesfixed just as intently on the door of that small little house. A smile tugged at her lips, and while those around her seemed somber and foocues on their task as if were a great teagedy, she seemed to dance along, hands clasped before her chest as she smiled widely, her smile only seeming to grow the close they came to the house. 

Before long, they came to halt before the front door, and one of her companions whispered a few chosen words, before sliding open the door. 

Harry paused, cup of coffee held to his lips as he listened carefully. That had almost sounded like the front door. 

Frowning, witht he cup still clasped tightly in his hands, Harry took a few cautious steps in the direction of the front door, pausing just inside of the kitchen. Just because the Wizarding World was a far cry safer then it had once been, didn't mean that the Muggle World was the same. 

And after everything he had been through, getting killed by a random muggle theif would just be completely insane. 

Peeking around the corner, Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the darkly robed figured, 8 in all, that stood just inside of the house. One woman, in particular, caught his attention. Her red hair fell down to her waist, brown eyes staring around the house, but not in confusion of the muggle appliances, as he would have expected. 

They'd gotten everything right about Lily Potter, save for the eyes. Where his mother's eyes were a vibrant green, this woman had eyes of chocolate-brown. 

Feeling an intense anger flare up in him, Harry slowly began to back up, wincing slightly as the floor beneath him squeaked loudly. The woman's head whipped around, and Harryinhaled sharply, before turning around blindly and making a bee-line for the back door. 

He never made it that far. 


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, to answer a review I recieved -- no! Harry does not have a sister! I'm a little bit more original than that people. Not much, but a little bit. Maybe I'll use that idea further down the road, but for now, no sister. Good try, though :)

As for the length of time between updates -- sorry! Hopefully this isn't too short for y'all, and it has been beta'ed, so that's always a good thing. I found myself a beta willing to work on _all_ of my stories, not just one in particular, so hapiness abounds.

And now, I must be honest with you. I've forgotten some of the parts of this plot. I shall go through my e-mails and look to find the basic plot that was sent to the group I'm a member of, but right now I only remember the bare basics. I just want to warn y'all of this -- I know it has to do with voldie being dead, and two different species' of magical creatures, but that's where my mind is drawing a blank. I will most likely be able to get one more chapter out, before those missing bits of plot have to be re-discovered. Can't get very far without the basic plot being understood, now can we?

The next chapter has already been started, so another update should be comming soon. I seem to have discovered an obsession with star wars lately, however, so that's taking up a bit of my time -- as well as all these wonderful fics that I keep finding.

But I'm ranting. Enjoy the fic, and, as always, remember to review! Feed the author! Lest she die of starvation :) Toodles!

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He awoke to heat. It was everywhere, seeming to surround him even as he took in his surroundings. He lay in a small room -- at least compared to what he had grown used to in his years at Hogwarts. It was larger than his room at his relative's house, but far smaller than even the smallest dorm in the Castle that he thought of as his only true home. For all it's small size, however, it was elegantly furnished still, heavy silken draperies shielding his view of the entire room, and white lace curtains allowing the sun to stream in to the room. The sheets above him were of the finest quality -- far better than anything he had found in Hogwarts, caressing his skin and feeling slightly cool to the touch.

That was nice. Anything cool was nice, at this point. He was broken out of his musings by the sound of the door opening, however, and Harry straightened himself into a sitting position, eyes guarded as he watched the man enter slowly in to the room, a tray balanced on one hand as he used the other one to close the door behind himself, blocking out a view of the hallway beyond. Harry never once took his eyes off the stranger now advancing on him, not in the least bit fooled by the smile the mysterious man wore on his full lips. The greatest evil generally wore the most beautiful facade. Kind of like Draco Malfoy.

The man's smile faltered only a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed, still on the recieving end of such a heavy glare. He set the tray of steaming food to his right, before leaning back, with both his hands splayed out behind him to support his weight. He returned Harry's intense stare with one of his own. They could have stayed like that indefinately, neither one willing to move first, if Harry's stomach hadn't growled loudly in protest of being ignored, especially with food so close by, lying untouched. The man grinned at the noise, before waving his right hand at the food. "Help yourself. It certaintly isn't going to eat itself."

Harry simply continued to glare, steadfastly ignoring his (quite insistent) stomach. He'd gone for longer period of time without food before, and he could certaintly do it again. The mysterious man simply sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them and standing to his feet, pacing over to one of the windows that lined one side of the room. What would you say if I told you that you're entire life had been a lie, Harry?"

"I'd say you were delusional." Came the quick retort, and a smile crossed the man's lips. Turning back to face his young charge, he gestured at the tray of steaming food. "Please, eat. If I were going to kill you, I would have done it while you slept." Instead of putting the young man at ease, as he had planned, however, his words only seemed to aggravate him even more, and put him even more on edge. "There are more ways to harm a person that simply casting the killing curse. How do I know you didn't slip something into the food?"

Sighing in exasperation, the older man strode across the room, picking up a fork and sampling each of the different trays for himself, unable to stop the smile that blossomed on his face at such luxuriant foods. This wasn't the usual fare that he always got to eat, and he had to forcibly stop himself from eating the rest of it, before the boy even had a chance to change his mind.

Setting the fork back down on the plate, he stepped back away from the bed, meeting the boy's wary gaze. "As you can see, there is nothing wrong with the food. Now will you please eat?" Harry grudgingly sat up straighter in the bed, reaching for the fork as he began to greedily shove food in to his mouth, eyes never straying from his companion. The man merely smiled, however, before turning on his heel and sweeping from the room.

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He hated this. Hated the fact that Harry didn't trust him, hated the fact that so many lies had been told to the boy. It didn't matter why those lies had been told, or how much protection they had afforded the boy. What mattered was that those lies had been told, and now they were paying the price for it.

Perhaps it would have been better if they had simply refused to work with Dumbledore, refused to acknowledge the prophesy, left the wizarding world to its wars and squabbles, of which it seemed to have an abundance. The wars of mortal men should not concern them so ...

But in the end, it had been left up to his parents to decide, and they had chosen to give their son up to his destiny, to give him up to _Dumbledore_. Had they done the right thing? He still wasn't sure. Harien turned away from the scrying glass, sighing heavily before turning to his silent companion, a sad smile on his lips. "Well, at least we got him to eat." He murmured, hoping to gain a smile from his ompanion. He was not successful. James Potter smiply sent him a glare, before turning his attention back to the scrying glass, reaching out a hand to trace the outline of his son's face on the crystal surface.

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Harry rose unsteadily to his feet, stumbling a little as he attempted to find his footing. Grasping hold of a bed post, he attempted to take a shaky step, only to end up falling heavily to the floor, letting out a small groan. This wasn't good. Pushing himself up to his knees, he stayed there for a moment, staring at the closed door with a scowl firmly planted on his face. How the hell was he supposed to escape here, if he couldn't even stand on his own two feet for more than two seconds?

The more important question, however, was _why_ couldn't he stand on his own two feet? Had there been something in the food after all? Perhaps that was why the other man had left so quickly after he'd started eating -- to hide the weakness that would overtake his limbs. Several rooms away, Harien winced softly as he watched the teen once again struggle to his feet, hands clecnhing in to fists to stop himself from rising to help the boy. The kid wouldn't welcome his help, anyway.

In his mind's eye, he could still see the way Harry had glared at him, eyes narrowed into little slits, his green eyes almost seeming to glow. It had been ... quite unnerving. Watching as Harry once again attempted to rise to his feet, Harien winced slightly, slanting a glance at his silent partner. James was quiet, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, the only outward sign of his distress for his struggling son. Otherwise, his face remained stony, brown eyes trained on the scrying glass.

It was going to be a long night.

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SCRYING GLASS -- A tool that allows one to view images of other places, as long as that place is not warded against such tools. Unlike Occulmency, it does not enter into a person's mind, but simply shows an area, such as a room, or a woodland clearing. The more familiar you are with the area, the easier it is to scry that particular area. While usually they are shaped like a round globe, they can technically be any shape and size.

A/N Many terms used here, such as SCRYING GLASS, are taken from the game Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (AD&D), thus proving that I am a geek. Deal with it :)


	3. Chapter 3

James Potter was going to die.

Lily Potter glared at the afore-mentioned man sitting across from her, a confused look adorning his face. How had she ever thought that look was cute on him? If anything, it was just bloody annoying.

"How could you just leave him there? How could you not HELP HIM? He's your son, James!" She didn't care that people were starting to look at them, that people were starting to talk. They all knew what they were arguing about anyway, so why try and keep it a secret?

This was a close-knit community, almost a family, really. And like all families, they had their fair share of troubles and secrets - old children squabbling with the younger, but all understanding that no one was better, or more valued than any other.

James was an outsider, but from what she'd seen, the entire time they had attended school together, he understood the basic principles that her people lived by. Family was the most important thing in the world to her, and he had always claimed that it was just as important to him.

But he certainly wasn't acting like it now.

James sighed heavily,running a hand through his messy black hair, before leaning back in his chair to regard his ex-wife thoughtfully.

Technically, they had never actually been married, at least not in the eyes of their peoples. The fact that they had had a child together had been enough of a scandal, but for their marriage to be recognized? It simply was NOT to be allowed. And after they had each come in to their inheritance? Well, the natural distrust that run through each of their blood had been enough to put an end to THAT relationship.

But that was all in the past now, best left alone. It was the here, and now that they had to worry about.

And Lily just didn't understand!

He cared for his son -- more than she would ever understand. Lily didn't really know, couldn't comprehend, what a son meant to him. To her, he was her child, and held her unconditional love, and leaving him behind in the wizarding world, to be raised by people other than himself, had nearly killed her.

But to him? Harry was so much more than that. Harry was his BLOOD, a reflection of himself, of all the good he had to offer the world. He was a second chance to do things right this time around, to right all the wrongs he had committed and pay penance for his sins.

And Harry was his heir. His crowned prince.

Oh, he was the prince of Lily's people to, make no mistake. But they did not adhere to the old ways the way that he and his people did -- a sore spot between their peoples, without a doubt. It was one of the main arguments that had kept their two races seperate.

Lily, realizing that she was not going to get a further reaction for the man she had once loved with all her heart, hissed slightly in frustration before slumping back in her chair, glaring heatedly at her dark-haired companion.

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Harry pushing himself once again to a kneeling position, panting heavily as he stared at his hands, tears welling in his eyes. He just didn't understand! What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he stand?!

He had never been prone to sickness as a child -- it was almost like his body KNEW that being sick would only make his living conditions worse, and there was always the chance the Dursley's would simply let him die, rather than take him to the hospital. Even at a young age, he had been a remarkably healthy baby, rarely getting so much as an earache.

Which was why this sudden weakness was so confusing to him now. Why should he feel so weak, so helpless, so sick? So hot? And he was hot -- feeling as if he were burning up from the inside out.

Grinding his teeth together in frustration, Harry slowly lowered himself on to all fours, staring at the door leading out of the room thoughtfully.

Even if he couldn't stand, he could still crawl.

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Harien had only left for a couple of minutes, to relieve his protesting bladder. He really had to stop drinking all of that American coffee -- he had to go to the bathroom far too often, lately.

However, upon glancing at the scrying crystal that should have showed him young Harry still struggling with his debilitating weakness, all thoughts of coffee flew from his mind, as he realized that Harry was GONE. Missing. No longer there.

Mouth going suddenly dry, Harien quickly adjusted the magics to show him the area just outside of the youth's room, frowning when he could find no trace of the boy.

He shouldn't have been able to get so far so quickly -- debilitating weakness should have been running rampant through his body. And while Harry had always been special, even for one of their people, even he shouldn't have been capable of _this_.

Even as he raced back the way he had come to contact his superiors, Harien could only think one thing.

Lily was going to **_kill_** him.

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Harry leaned against the wall, catching his breath, eyes lowered to the floor. People passed all around him, but none of them seemed to take any heed of him, and for once, Harry was thankful to the Dursley's. Because of their treatment of him, he had learned early on how to blend into the crowd, to appear as if he belonged there, to not stick out like a sore thumb. It was one of the only ways he had escaped from numerous beatings from Dudley and his friends. Now, he put those lessons to good use. This time, it could very well mean his life.

He didn't understand any of this -- these people all had eerily glowing eyes, similar to his, though blue and, surprisingly, red, seemed to be the more prominent colors. And, while his eyes had always been startling, they had certainly never _glowed_. He was certain that somebody would have mentioned it. Glowing eyes? Those were ... kind of hard to miss.

But the most surprising part about those eyes, was who _didn't_ have them .Everywhere he looked, he saws the younger generation of these people, their eyes flicking over him and pausing only a moment on his eyes before they lost interest. When he caught a glimpse of the older generation, however, he found himself looking into brown, or blue, or black -- all normal colored eyes, none of them eery or glowing in any way.

Rubbing a hand tiredly across his eyes, Harry pushed himself upright as he once again took the painful steps, one after another, down this seemingly never ending hallway.

Nobody seemed to be taking any particular interest in him, and for that, Harry was thankful. He didn't know what he would do if somebody started questioning him, didn't know if there was anything he _could_ do, not in his current state.

He had survived Voldemort, dammit, and he _would_ survive this!

Gritting his teeth in determination, Harry forced himself to straighten his spine, hand still held against the wall as he forced himself to walk faster, forcing a surety in to his steps that he himself didn't feel. If he looked like he had a purpose, though, people would be less likely to question him.

Several hallways away, Harien came to a stop in front of a heavy wooden door, panting heavily to catch his breath before he slowly straightened to his full height, knocking loudly on the decorated surface. A moment or two passed, before Lily finally answered, looking ruffled and upset, a small frown pulling at her lips. "What is it?"

Harien swallowed uncomfortably, searching in his mind for a moment for the proper way to put this, that would include the least bodily harm to his person, before finally giving it up as a lost cause. There was no way he was going to get out of this unscathed, so why even try?

"Harry is gone."

Lily simply stared at him for a moment, mouth opening in to a little O of surprise, before her brows came together in a scowl. "What do you mean, 'Harry is Gone'? Did James do something?"

"Erm, no. That is ... I left the room for a second -- a second! -- to go to the bathroom. I couldn't have been gone for more than two minutes, I swear it, My Lady. I've checked the security cameras, James Potter had nothing to do with it -- Harry just _got up and walked out_. I can't find him, Lady. I've tried, oh I've tried, but he's just _gone._ I don't know how he did it, he shouldn't have been able to do it, he should have been incapacitated for several more days, at least. But he did, and ... " Harien knew he was babbling, but he couldn't seem to stop himself, until a loud _SMACK_ resounded through the hall, as Lily's hand make contact with the side of his face.

"You lost my _son_? How do you lost a _person_?!" She raised her hand to smack him again, and Harien winced, closing his eyes and bracing himself for the pain that never actually came. Cracking open one eye, he blinked in surprise at the sight of James Potter standing behind her, holding her upraised hand in his own hand, simultaneously protecting Harien while glaring at him at the same time.

"You can kill him later, Lily. First, let's find Harry." Lily simple settled for glaring at Harien, before finally nodding tersely, and James released her hand, stepping around her as he pulled on a shirt."Show me the security cameras."

_Cameras_ was really the wrong word, because nothing even remotely muggle was involved. Small gems were situated in the walls around the complex, some hidden in nooks and crannies, and others artistically arranged in paintings or sculptures. Through these gems, one could use the Scrying globes to monitor the entire complex -- especially useful when visitors were admitted, or a Young One was brought home.

After their first year of life, a child became unable to stay with their parents -- exposure could bring insanity, and, depending on the power held within that particular child, sometimes even death. They had to be sent away, the earlier the better. But for Harry, things had been different.

Not yet at the point where he had to be separated from his parents, James and Lily had fought to protect him from Voldemort. And it had cost them their human halves.

It was part of the reason they were so unique, why their relationship had actually worked, for a while. Both half human, their marriage had been planned out before they were even able to walk, both sent to stay with their human relatives. However, once a Child reached their 17th birthday ... things Changed drastically.

A Child went through their Change sometime around their 17th birthday -- sometimes on the exact day of their birth, but more often than not it was within a couple days of that, sometimes even as much as a week or two.

Harry was one of the few who had changed on the exact day, and while usually only his parents would have been sent to retrieve him, he was special, different. Unique. The only grandson of the Royal Pair, he needed to be handled with care, especially considering just what blood ran through his veins.

Two different, unique magical races, each with their own histories and magics running through their systems.

James leaned back in his chair, looking over at his wife as she stared at the Scrying Glass, still filtering through it's images. He'd been doing the same thing only moments before, but it was like Harry had never even been there - they couldn't pick him up on any of the Cameras, and the minute he had left the observation room, it was like he had disappeared -- they could see him get up and walk shakily out of the room, but the minute they switched to the Cameras in the hall ... nothing. Nada. Zip.

Was his son really that powerful? The human half of Lily and himself had actually weakened them, a good portion of their magical energy going to stabilize themselves, because the human in their blood never could correctly mix with magical creature.

But Harry ... had that happened with him? Or was it that the blood of both their people was enough to override the human in him? Even after his transformation, even after the human blood in him had been killed by Voldemort, he had never been able to regain the power he should have had -- his magic had grown while that human blood was still in him, and it had stayed the same, unable to grow anymore, even when the blocks that had once held it back were no more.

He still loved Lily, and James was relatively sure that she felt the same way. But ... their people had an ingrained hatred for each other, relatively similar to the hatred between a werewolf and a vampire. Not that Lily ever liked to hear that comparison.

Lily finally glanced up, a frown on her face as she mirrored James' position. "We'll have to call out a search." She said it so simply, yet he knew how hard it was for her to say those words. She didn't want to, didn't like that it was needed, but ...

His people would be best suited for it, and those who had come with him would gladly scour the ends of the earth looking for his son. Her people would want to help, of course, but they didn't have the tracking abilities needed.

Smiling gently, James leaned down and kissed his wife gently on the cheek, slightly surprised when she didn't jerk back away from him, like she usually did. "Good Luck." She whispered, and James knew better than to respond.

Lily smiled sadly as she watched him go, wondering if the feelings she had developed as a human would ever truly dissipate. It was confusing, and hard, to love and hate a person at the same time.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped outside, blinking a little against the glare of the noonday sun. Odd .. for some reason he could have sworn it was the middle of the night. Eh, this way it would be easier to see where he was going, anyway.

He was still blisteringly hot, but he really couldn't take any more off -- they'd left him in only a loose pair of pants and his t-shirt, no socks or shoes on his feet. And as much as he would have liked to strip down to his birthday suit just for the relief it would give his body, he held himself in check. Couldn't have the police picking him up for indecent exposure, now could he?

Glancing uneasily over his shoulder, Harry quickly started walking again, breathing deeply through his nose in an attempt to ease the burning in his throat. It felt as is multiple blisters had formed on the back of his throat, but when he ran his tongue as far back as he could get it, all he felt was smooth skin, feeling a bit warmer to his tongue than the rest of his mouth did.

He'd never really gotten sick as a child, unlike Dudley, who was always complaining about one ailment or the other -- most of which Harry was pretty sure had been imaginary, just another way to get what he wanted -- usually a day off from school to play his video games. But Harry had never really had anything to complain about -- unless you counted the hideous haircuts Aunt Petunia would force upon him. His accidental magic had taken care of those quite nicely, though.

Maybe that was why he felt so bad -- because sickness was so unheard of for him. Keeping that thought in mind, Harry forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, holding close the idea that things felt far worse than they actually were. He wasn't _really_ hot enough to burn the sun to ash -- he just felt like it.

Lily paced back and forth across the small observation room that had become like a second hoem to her since they had recovered Harry, lips pursed as she glanced at the ακούστε, which remained just as frustratingly silent as it had been for the past half hour. James had only called her once, to let her know that the search had turned up fruitless so far, with no sign of Harry and nobody who had seen him leave.

How could they not have noticed him? Barely clad in a pair of sweatpants and a thin t-shirt, he would have seemed out of place in the cold corridors, although to him it would have felt as if the entire complex was as hot as Hades itself.

Running her hands through her bright red hair, Lily sighed in frustration, turning to sit down at the desk that looked out on the empty room below -- a room that should have held her son, still in the throes of a fever.

She hated this. Hated knowing that her son was out there somewhere, hurting. It had been different before, when he had been under Dumbledore's care. Then, she hadn't had any specifics, and could fool herself into thinking that he was fine. She had heard about his more dangerous adventures, yes, but not until after they had been dealh with -- when Harry was safely back at Hogwarts, bruises and scrapes dealt with and happy with his friends.

This was different. She knew he wasn't safe -- she knew he was in danger every minute he spent out there on his own.

The fever currently gripping him wasn't something they had induced, and she wished it would just go away. Wished it was something the Elders had cooked up so that they could control the young lings until they understood just what was going on. But no. This illness was something beyond their control.

When the young lings finally rejoined the rest of their people, their stint int he mortal realm finished, they would be gripped with an unnatural fever, their bodies finally coming into contact with their natural realm, a realm where all the illnesses they had once been immune to would suddenly hit them with their full force.

Young lings were always immune to such illnesses in the mortal realm -- and that was so misleading, wasn't it? The Mortal Realm. Making it sound like they were anything but moral. Immortal. She wished they were immortal, that she didn't have to worry about her son every minute he was out there, every minute he was in danger. Wouldn't it be nice if nothing could him, out there in the world?

Nobody was really sure where the term came from, only that it had been used since the oldest of the Elders could remember, passed down from generation to generation until it was so immersed in their culture that nobody would ever dare trying to change it. Why should they? They Old Ways were best.

Leaning forward so her elbows were resting on the counter in front of her, Lily cradles her head in her hands, letting out a shuddering sigh.

**TRANSLATIONS**

ακούστε rough translation is "listen" in Greek. A small communication device, it is similar to the mirrors that Sirius and James would use when they were in school, and the one that Sirius gave Harry in _Order of the Phoenix._

**Authors Note**

First of all, I'd like to formally apologize for not updating before this. I've actually had most of this chapter done and saved on my hard drive for quite some time, but just haven't finished it until now. I've also downloaded a word processor recently, so my spelling should show a marked improvement :) I am, as of right now, on a kind of vacation from ... well, life. No work, no school, no responsibilities other than picking up after myself and doing the dishes every once in a while :D Therefore, I have plenty of time to write, among other things. So, hopefully the next chapter will be along soon, although I am working on a couple of other ideas, along with some other stories I've had going for quite a while.

As always, feedback is more than appreciated, especially since all of the reviews thus far have been so very encouraging – not a single flame thus far! To be honest, I think I've only ever received one, maybe two flames the entire time I've been writing on so meh. Enough rambling! I hope y'all enjoyed the story, and please remember to leave a comment/review! It'd be very much appreciated :)


	4. Chapter 4

Mikhail was the one to find him, driving down the road that led toward Las Vegas. Out here in the sun and desert, it was relatively easy to hide their existence from the muggle world. A few carefully placed spells, and the complex looked like any other expensively furnished and well-kept house, bordering on a mansion. Surprisingly, those weren't as uncommon out in the blistering desert heat as one might expect.

Of course, he preferred it here, in the head and the solitude. Some of his people didn't, said they missed the weather of England. And they rarely left the Complex, for everything they could ever need was held within its walls. Not only a building of earth and stone, it held gardens and pools inside, descending down in to the earth rather than stretching up in to the sky.

Of course, any outsider looking at it would see only a mansion of expensive marble and wood, an expensive pool in the backgrounds and an arrangement of desert flora decorating its exterior. Those plants were carefully tended to, and soil imported from other regions for the flora that was not native to a desert atmosphere.

The gardens inside were much more grand, with a better variety of flowers and herbs. Unseen by the muggle eye were the reflective ceilings that lowed sunlight to stream through, down countless floors to reach all of the plant life. Most of the surfaces inside were reflective, allowing sunlight in but letting nothing escape. Only certain sections were made of wood or the marble the muggle eye could easily see from a distance – these rooms and sections were closer to the edge of the complex, while those down below were carved directly from the earth, reinforced with stone and wood.

The further down you went, the more different it became – less grand, more homey. Central, of course, were the gardens, fed by the light that streamed down from above. It was kind of like a tube, carved out of the complex, stretching down as far as the complex went, sunlight running through that tube to feed the plants, one level after another. The plants and flowers existed on the edges of the tube, and on the edges of the gardens the rest of the community flourished – apartments and offices, businesses and community centers. There were several community pools, as well, often filled with the laughter of its occupants.

The only thing missing was the laughter of children. Unable to remain with their parents past their first year of life, they had to be sent away, into the Human World. Some, like Lily and James, would raise their children for even that first year, in the Human World as well, before leaving them with friends and family. Lily and James had been different, of course, falling victim to Lord Voldemort, forced to leave their son before they had to.

And now that son was in the back of his car, shivering as if from cold, while his skin burned to the touch. His reaction was more severe than any of the other Younglings Mikahil had encountered, and most certainly worse than his own reaction had been. He considered himself lucky, that he had not Changed on his birthday – what a way to spend what was normally such a joyous occasion! His Change had come several weeks after his birthday, long enough that it had given his parents and relatives quite the scare.

Fishing his ακούστε from the pocket of his jeans, Mikhail quickly flipped it open, scrolling down until he found the number of Lily Potter.

He would much rather speak to Lily than her husband, the ingrained hatred in him for those people being almost too much to bear, sometimes. And there were so many of them in the Complex, now! Harry wasn't so bad, simply because he had the blood of both people running through his veins. That was enough to stem the tide of his hatred. But James Potter …

Shuddering slightly at the thought of the older man, Mikhail forced himself to concentrate as Lily picked up on the other end.

"Hello?"

"I've found him, Ma'am. He was on the road heading out to Vegas."

Lily drew in a shuddering breath, and Mikkhail waited patiently, realizing she must have been expecting the worst. "Thank-you, Mikhail. I'll let James know to call off the search. Bring him _directly_ to the observation room, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm on my way."

Mikahil glanced back at his young charge as he flipped the ακούστε closed, dark eyes taking in the state of the boy. He had to have some 'ole power, to be reacting to the Change this way.

It was … frightening to contemplate, just what Harry Potter could do, given the chance.

* * *

Lily breathed a sigh of relief as Mikhail carried Harry inside, pursing her lips together as she took in the sight of her son.

He was too weak for this – all this movement could very well have killed him, if he hadn't been found soon enough. He was still burning with fever, only now this over exertion had added other complications to his condition.

Usually, a child could work through the Change on their own, given enough time. True, they were usually frightened, not understanding why they had been brought her. And sometimes, that confusion gave way to anger, and a need to escape. But they were always too weak to do anything about it, until after the Change was completed.

Harry, though … Harry was different. His power was extraordinary, surpassing that of any child they had seen before. The mixing of the blood …. She hadn't expected it to result in somebody quite so powerful. None of them had. But when that prophesy had first appeared in the archives ….

James' people had been the ones to discover it, to realize its importance. For none of their people – either of the two races – had ever been implicated in a prophesy before. It was believed to have something to do with the magic that was part of their very being, their very soul. Yet somehow, the mixing of the blood had resulted in a child that _could_ be governed by prophesies and fate. The magic of their peoples had not been enough to protect him from that.

And James' people were the ones who worked in the Ministry, down in the bowels where all the secrets and artifacts were kept. They were the ones who protected the prophesies, who dealt with people, who interacted with humans. She had never understood their need to be part of their world. Her people were more than happy with this world they had created for themselves, venturing out only every once in a while, and certainly not taking jobs Outside.

James seemed content to stay out of their affairs, although that might have been because he had been proclaimed dead when they had found the shell of his body.

That was the most problematic part of the Change – the shell that was left behind as the Younglings left behind their old, human bodies and took on new ones. Their appearance didn't change overmuch – sometimes small differences could be found, but for the most part they remained the same. Those old bodies were dead, however, mere shells that they had been forced to discard.

It was getting harder and harder to discard of the shells, as muggles became more and more advanced in their technologies.

And that was why such pains had been taken to create Harry – decades of planning, all to create a child from both races, who could represent them to the muggle world, when the time came that they would no longer be able to hide their presence from the world.

For that day was fast approaching.

But the burning hatred their people felt for each other was too much for any on either side to contemplate actually sleeping with one from the opposing side – the time of war between their two powerful factions was long gone, but the hatred still persisted, ingrained into their very being. And so, they had compromised.

A child, from each side, each half human, raised in the human world with human parents, and even, in the case of Lily, human siblings. Their marriage had been planned out in advance, and each had known it. But they had liked each other anyway, and had, after a fashion, fallen in love. Lily had given birth before her 17th birthday, and although the old hatred had come upon them both when they turned 17, it was alright, because they had Harry to focus on. That, and they had separate bedrooms after that.

They had been the vessels to bring this child into the world, and for that, they were honored. And the fact that they were royalty among their own people just helped.

Harry had to have some sort of power, it was decided. Some sort of leverage over their people, to be able to speak for all of them. And what better way to insure that, than to have him be the son and grandson of their rulers?

* * *

Lily watched as Mikhail gently placed her son down on the bed in the middle of the room, smoothing his hair back as she stared down into unfocused green eyes. Already those eyes were losing their luster, fading into a more normalized version of green. Soon, they would not even be green anymore, but brown, or perhaps blue. Blue was uncommon for her people, but not for James. Her eyes had remained green, perhaps because of the human blood running through her veins, a constant reminder of her human ancestry. James, of course, showed no such indication of his human parentage, his eyes a quite common brown in color.

She hoped Harry would retain his green eyes, or at least move on to a blue eye color. Should his eyes move to brown, as she feared they would, there would be almost nothing to distinguish him from his father. And that would cause problems among her people, she was sure.

Mikhail hesitated a second after he had stepped away from Harry, worrying his lower lip as he watched Lily in indecision.

Royalty among his people meant something different than it did to the Muggles. Lily held power, yes, but it was not absolute. Should she break the laws of their people, she would be treated as any other who had done the same. However, she held the power to change what would sometimes need to be changed, to enact new laws for the safety of her people. And she was the mother of Harry, which granted her an extra measure of respect, and honor.

But she was just a woman, and a woman he admired for her strength and courage. And right now, she looked lost, as any mother would when faced with such a trying time.

It was not his place to comfort her, however, but the place of her husband, of Harry's father. Of James Potter.

Lily turned to him just as he was about to leave, and Mikhail offered a small smile at her far too sad face, that smile widening as she reached over, laying a hand gently on his arm. "Thank you, Mikhail. Please, stay with me."

Mikahil nodded, taking up a place beside Lily as she continued her bed-side vigilance beside her son, who now slept fitfully on the bed, head tossing and turning and legs twitching every once in a while.

* * *

**Authors Note:** I feel an extended explanation is required for the ακούστε, since they are a bit different in design and functionality than the mirrors that James and Sirius, and later Sirius and Harry, would use. Small, and similar in design to that of a cell phone, they were actually modified in recent years to be used outside the Complex, and in the presence of muggles. They are squarer than a cell phone, however, and cannot be used to place calls to anything other than another ακούστε. There are no logos upon them, and have the appearance of stone, although they were not created from such a material. They are light-weight and slim, although with a rough texture to them.

**Authors Note II**: Well, It didn't take me as long to get this chapter out as I had thought it would – certainly not as long as the last one! It did take me several tries to get the chapter close to the way I wanted it, however, and I got to introduce Mikhail, something I had hoped to do in, if not this chapter, than the next couple of ones. Mikahil is my creation, and will become important later on. Please, feel free to review – reviews help me to update, and if I am not mistaken, not as many people are interested in this story as when I first began it. _Where did I go wrong?_ Or is it just a lack of people reviewing, but not a lack of people reading? I'm not psychic here, people! Those reviews let me know how many people are reading the story! The more I get, the more I write! So, if you read this story, please _review_!


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